Sin City Horsemen
by The Bloody Red Lantern
Summary: The horsemen ride and for any who can afford their price, but these warriors' life are about to change


**War.**

_This feels right; my motorcycle purrs as I roll down the streets, this is who I am. War rides again, let all of Basin City know I have returned. The life of Marcus __Rodriguez__ is over, all that remains is War. The red Indian I'm riding on was a fortune back in the day, but then it was discarded, a vintage biker had kept it, but well he sold it to me after some convincing. It's a World War Two 750cc Scout. Sweet I know. I modified it a bit; well a lot actually, had a lot of work to do. But I kept the two holsters its holding my Winchester Model 1887 shotgun and my Winchester Model 1873 rifle, (fires a nice .45 round only problem is its got to be loaded one shot at a time, yea I got a thing for John Wayne and cowboy guns), and it's got a spot for my sword so I don't have to wear it on my hip as I ride. My long red coat is fluttering because of the wind; it's been too long since I have ridden. Conquest is in front, his white Harley shining in the half glow of the street lights. He didn't tell me where we going, he said ride so I ride. Battle, bloodshed, these are my only concern. I am War, I ride. Next to me is Famine, the pale girl looks completely out of place swathed in black on her black beamer. She has her M240 slung behind her, her saddle bags filled with ammo for the gun and the rest of us. But she ain't for fighting, neither is Pestilence over by Death. Nah their job is support, fighting, that's my department, Death and Conquest help. Death is covered in black too, her heavy scythe is slung over her shoulder, and her chopper is a pale yellow. God I don't know how she uses that damn scythe, but then again I really don't care. Conquest has a straight sword and a compound bow on his back, think he's got a thing for Jack Churchill. Pestilence matched Conquest, in white, carrying a M16A4 and a pistol or two (not that she needs it, that damn rifle also has an underbelly shotgun, as long as she has ammo she can hold off an army with that thing). The Horsemen rode to battle, and damn did it feel good. Marcus is screaming to leave, to go home, that this part of my life was over. War roars at him to shut up. Yet I can't bring myself to care about the two voices in my head. The Horsemen ride, War is right, my job is battle, I'll leave the rest to the others. Marcus's cries get softer and softer as I drive, War getting louder and louder. _

**Conquest.**

_Another day, another fight. Life is battle, conquest, one must fight to live. Oldest truth in the book. My Harley roars underneath me, my bow and arrows scream for blood. The Horsemen ride. There is a reason I am Conquest, only War himself out does my love of a fight. But I am Conquest, first of the Riders. I thought we would only be four this mission, low and behold War appears, battered but ready to fight. Good thing too, he's our mechanic, Death and Pestilence are ok but War knows bikes in and out. Gave all of them a fine tune up before tonight. We'll need it. This will be a challenge but the Horsemen can overcome anything, that's our job, to win no matter what. Famine relaxed when War appeared. So did Pestilence. I hate to say it but War gives us a tremendous advantage. Even Death breathed a small sigh of relief when I donned my white coat instead of the red one she hated so much. Death, my love, enchanting as ever. Tonight will be one of our finest displays to date, we will cement our mark in Basin City and one day we will rule this city. But for now we are called to fight, so fight we shall. The Horsemen ride to battle, lord help our enemies._

The five gang members drove down the road, eventually stopping in an empty lot. The leader, Conquest, kicked his stand out and slid off his bike, Death following suite. She loosened her large scythe from its bindings, letting the heavy bladed weapon sit on her shoulder as she followed her lover to the parked Cadillac in the lot. Conquest kept his bow in its quiver with his arrows, but he slipped a small 32 pistol out from his sleeve. Not strong but deadly at close range. War pulled out his rifle and rested it on his handle bars, ready to blast if he needed to. The window rolled down and an envelope appeared. Taking it, Conquest read the contents, nodded and stuck his hand out. Another smaller envelope appeared and Conquest checked the contents again. Satisfied the lead Horsemen spun and walked back to his bike, Death following at a sedate pace ready to pounce. War didn't return his gun to its holster till Conquest was on his bike and the car had pulled out.

"Relax, just our clients." War grunted, Famine rested a hand on his arm and he relaxed a little.

"We good?"

"We're good. We got work to do."

"Good I need some action."

"What's the matter your hand not good enough anymore." War turned to Death and gave her a feral grin, one that shot right through the goth girl stirring emotions best saved till after battle.

"Want to find out how good my hand is?"

"Knock it off, Famine Pestilence ride on the wings, War Death with me." The others gave their affirmative and the small gang drove off. They drove to the Projects, want a dirty job done go to the Projects. The only cops that go there are ones who aren't going to bust people. The five pulled over in a side alley, last minute checks were being made as well as a chance to make peace with whatever god they prayed to. War checked his guns to make sure they were all fully loaded. He slung a cartridge belt and a shell belt over his body, looking kind of like a bandito from all the old cartoons. Finally he tested his saber's edge. Once satisfied he said a quick prayer to Saint Michael in Russian and waited. Conquest tested his bow, checking to make sure the bow drew smoothly and that his arrows were in proper order. Like War he tested the edge of his sword but then said the "Our Father" in Latin. Pestilence checked her medical bag, going over each of the necessary supplies with a critical eye before turning to her M16. She counted her clips, made sure they were all full, before saying a quick prayer in Spanish that sounded like the "Hail Mary". Famine checked her saddle bags for her spare ammo boxes, before doing a final check on her M240. She was the weakest fighter, so she made up for it by being support. She made the sign of the Cross but didn't actually say anything. The only one not checking their equipment was Death.

**Death.**

_Another day, same shit. War showing up should have told me we'd be fighting. We're always fighting and War always shows up when it's gonna be hard. Guess I should be thankful, means Kyle can be Conquest and not War. War is the target; everyone knows the red rider is the best of us. With the real War here my boy can stay back and shoot, not be in the heat of it where he could get hurt or die. Everyone is saying their prayer, saying goodbye. Just like always, not me though. I ain't gonna die tonight. I ain't gonna die till I'm an old lady surrounded by grandkids. Besides I got something better than prayer, I got my scythe. The blade is perfectly balanced, the head having just enough weight for me to get speed from swinging it around. But its light enough for me to handle it without needing a counter balance. This is my protection, this and the MP5k I got hidden in my saddle bags. War is getting into his psycho phase, good thing I guess. We're gonna need it and if he can do what he did during that Kraut job, well we just might walk away from this without a scratch. I hate working for the mob, it's always trouble but they pay good and we get better connections. Still killing everyone in two of Sin City's biggest gangs while they're killing each other, not the best way to spend a Saturday. _

Death is shook out of her musing when Conquest starts his bike. "Kill everyone, our client wants no one to walk away from this." Another chorus of affirmatives and the group speed off to a gang fight and dead men. It wasn't hard to find the war, it was happening in the parking lot of a school. The parking lot was packed with bodies as teenagers fought with guns, knives, bats, pipes basically anything they could get their hands on. Conquest pulled to the side and drew his bow. "Remember no survivors." War smirked, as the others nodded. War drew one of his mags and roared, launching forward as the others grabbed their guns. He blasted eight shots before holstering the now empty gun. He drew his saber and crashed into the crowd. The bodies were so packed that they flew back as the motorcycle slammed into them. War was laughing insanely as he lashed out with his saber, his red coat taking on a dark shade of crimson as his blade sang. Behind the red rider, Conquest had jumped from his bike and started launching arrows, taking down someone with each shot. Death followed War's approached and had stayed mounted, swinging her scythe as she barreled into the fight. Both Horsemen met each other on the other side of the parking lot, covered in blood, some of their own, most of it from dead gang members. War sheathed his blade and drew his rifle, tossing it to Death.

"Give that scythe of yours a break." He gave Death the same feral smile, one that almost made the goth girl go weak at the knees. The Horsemen were kids born and raised in combat, and War was the best of them. He drew his shot gun and gunned his engine. "See ya on the other side." With that he shot forward, firing off the six shells as he crashed into the fight again. Death opened fire, shooting with the ten shot rifle before drawing her MP5k. She powered forward too, blasting away as she followed War into the chaos. Her gun barked and jumped in her hand, sending bullet after bullet into the flow of bodies. When she made it through her second pass the gangs had finally turned their attention to them. War took his rifle and reloaded it quickly and efficiently then his shotgun before drawing his saber.

"It's the Horsemen!" War roared and raised his saber, shooting forward as his bike screamed its anger. He smashed into the line again working his way through the bodies like a boat through the sea. The gangs put aside their difficulties and turned to meet the charging rider when Famine appeared, until now she had been holding back, just shooting with her pistols. Now though, Conquest had given her the signal so she pulled out her machine gun and opened fire. Packed as they were and charging toward a small group, the bullets ripped through the teens. Shocked by the ferocity and pure lethality of the small group of bikers the two gangs started to scatter, turf war forgotten. But this wasn't what the Horsemen were hired to do. These gangs were being executed as symbols of what happens when a person crosses Don Costevich.

War spun his bike in a tight circle changing directions and charging down fleeing gang members. Beside him was Death, swinging her big scythe, taking down teenagers and adults like they were wheat. Conquest had run out of arrows and had taken to fighting like Death and War. From his Harley he lashed out with his sword, his brilliant white jacket slowly but surely being dyed red. Famine and Pestilence stayed back, their guns bucking and jumping as they poured round after round into the gangbangers. Whenever one had to reload the other would add an extra spray of bullets to cover the other. Besides the obvious military grade hardware and the smart tactics, what worked for the Horsemen was the name itself. Everyone knows the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypses and seeing people wearing the clothes, armed with very real weapons is a powerful psychological weapon that helps the gang scatter their enemies.

The fight ended ten minutes later, the ground was littered with bodies and the black top was dyed dark red. War had run down the last of the gang members, literally chasing after him after he was flung from his bike. Famine was busy reloading her M240, taking a breather. She was staring at War but didn't move to get off her bike. Pestilence was checking on Death and Conquest, stopping any bleeding and sewing up the bad gashes. Despite herself, the self appointed medic of the group kept sneaking glances at the red rider. War stood off to the side staring at the carnage he had helped caused, his face blank his eyes dead. He was holding his arm where he had been cut pretty bad but he wasn't really paying attention to it. His bike was standing next to him where he had set it, the side scraped up.

**War**

_Fight's over, Marcus'll come out soon; he won't be horrified, hopefully. Done this to many times to be horrified. Guess this is a post combat high, my body feels like a layer of wool is wrapped around it. The volume is turned way down and I can't really focus on anything. Should I feel guilty? I ended god knows how many lives tonight, it wasn't even hard, pull of a trigger, swing of a blade and someone dies. The end. This is what I live for, this is what War does, kill. The thrill of a fight, chasing down fleeing prey, taking out worthy opponents this is why I am War. So why do I feel so…empty. This didn't used to happen, used to be I'd say a prayer to Saint Michael, thanking him for his support and protection, then I'd let Pestilence patch me up. Now I just don't want to do anything. My body hurts…I think. I'm bleeding I'm pretty sure but I can't really tell if I'm in pain. Pestilence is probably checking up on Conquest and Death, they were in the thick of it. Hmm my body is starting to scream more, but my head is still fuzzy wonder why. Maybe I should try and focus but I can't really find the energy. _

"Pestilence go check on him he seems out of it." Pestilence nodded and moved away from Conquest and Death, a frown etched on her thin face.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" Conquest shrugged, wincing as he moved his now stitched up shoulder.

"Don't know he seems out of it."

"To put it mildly."

"Come on we should check on Famine." The gothic girl nodded and followed her lover over to the silent girl who was still reloading her heavy gun. Famine was a Horsemen, she understood death and killing. But that didn't stop her from hating it or herself for causing it.

"Famine you ok?" The girl looked from the white clad boy to the black clad girl then to the bodies. "We were hired to do a job, we did it. They were bad people Famine, they deserved their deaths." Famine turned to Conquest and regarded him with a blank face.

"Go check on War sweetheart, I'll talk to Famine." Conquest looked from the goth girl to the skinny brunet. Nodding he kissed Famine on the cheek and Death on lips before leaving. Once he was gone Death turned to her friend and shook her head. "He's fine sweetie, really, he's still here and ok from the looks of it." Famine's face broke for a second before gesturing to the bodies then to War. "I know, but that's what he does, who he is. Come on we should check on him make sure everything is in tip top shape." Famine nodded and slowly got off her bike slinging her large gun over her shoulder. They walked over to Conquest who stopped them from going to the red rider.

"He's completely out of it, might be shock or something Pestilence doesn't know. She's trying to patch him up but he isn't exactly helping." Death grabbed Famine whose legs seemed to weaken a little.

"He's fine alright, just out of it. Why don't we get packed up and wait for Pestilence to finish ok, come on." Death helped Famine walk away, the mute girl glancing over shoulder at War. Pestilence was trying to get his jacket off but he looked like he didn't hear her yelling at him.

"Damn it War lift your damn arms up so I can see where you're bleeding." War shrugged, still staring out at the bloodied parking lot. "Come on I need to patch you up."

"Check on the others." Pestilence snorted, she knew he didn't really care if she had fixed the others up.

"Already did. Now come on I need to look you over." He shrugged again but started to move slightly. With the minimal help, Pestilence managed to get his long jacket off. She let out a small gasp at what she saw. His body was torn and ripped in at least six spots. His arm had a large gash running down the side where he took a knife swipe while riding. He had been winged by a few bullets, not to mention the bruises from all the blunt hits he took. "How the hell are you still standing?" War turned to stare at him like he had just noticed she was there.

"Huh?" Pestilence shook her head and pushed him over to his bike.

"Sit." With his mind so slow all War could do was listen. He sat on his Indian, his eyes still glassy as he stared, it was a bit unnerving. "Now this'll hurt a bit but I got to do it." She poured a bit of alcohol onto each of his cuts to sterilize them then pulled out bandages. She wrapped the still bleeding ones, putting pressure on a few of the more major ones. War didn't react. He did what he was told to do and just continued to stare at the bodies. "What are you looking at?" The silence was freaking Pestilence out. War normally would laugh and thank god he lived, or make fun of their opponents. He'd curse when he was being stitched up; storm off to Famine only to apologize later when Pestilence entered their shared room. Just seeing him stare at the carnage to not even say anything was wrong.

"I caused that." Pestilence actually stopped working and stared at War. His red and green hair was matted against his head, his tan skin looked almost pale, it was like he wasn't in his right mind.

"What?"

"I caused that, all those dead bodies, I was the cause."

"We all did that, we were hired to kill them." War didn't have regrets, he never had regrets, regrets were for people who had the luxury of a conscious. War didn't have that luxury, he was War the most famous of the Horsemen, the red rider, the one that everyone wanted to kill. That's why Marcus was War because he knew this and accepted it, not Connor, not Jenny or Nica or Jazz, but Marcus, who lived to fight. Being War gave him an outlet for his violence.

"I know I just never really looked before. Thanks for the bandages, but I'm good." He pushed her back slightly and shrugged his coat back on. He seemed more together, just a little distracted now. "Tell Conquest I'll see him back at the house." Without waiting for a response War started his bike and peeled out of the parking lot.

"Where's he going? We have clean up to do." Pestilence shrugged as she packed up her medical bag.

"He said he'd meet us at home."

"Fine, get me the kit ok?" Pestilence nodded, walking to her bike she pulled out a large bag. Inside were three hazmat jumpsuits and latex gloves. She passed two suits to Conquest and Death and went to put the third on when Famine took it. Normally War would be the third member of clean up duty but Famine wanted to help out somehow other than being fire support. No one commented on it. Conquest Famine and Death went about the long process of gathering all the bodies and rifling through their pockets. Once they were in a large enough pile, each of the Horsemen took the gas canister that was kept on their bikes, and doused everything. The three who gathered the bodies shed their jumpsuits and tossed them on the pile. Then Conquest took out a match box, setting the whole book on fire he tossed it onto the bodies. The four watched as the bodies burned only leaving when there was nothing but bones and ash. Finally they poured salt on everything, a little signature and it erases a lot of the minute evidence left over. The four grabbed their bikes and rode away, knowing that someone would show up eventually. When they got home they found War sitting on the stoop smoking a cigarette. They all parked their bikes in the hidden garage and headed up the stairs to the door. Conquest went to say something when Death pushed him past War, pointing to Famine and Pestilence over her shoulder. The couple entered the house leaving the threesome on the stoop, War not really paying any attention as the girls fidgeted, trying to figure out what to say. He wasn't sucking the cigarette down like it was his only chance at life but at the same time he was obviously nervous about something.

"War?"

"Marcus." Pestilence nodded as the two girls sat down next to the fighter. Sometimes after a big fight he refused to be called War, neither Pestilence nor Famine understood why.

"Marcus are you ok?" Next to him was one of his magnums, Pestilence couldn't tell if it was loaded or not.

"Fine." Famine sat down next to him and rested her head against his shoulder. He didn't react just kept taking drag after drag on his cigarette.

"Marcus is that gun loaded."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Thought I might have been followed, got a bad feeling, figured I'd wait to see if I was right." Pestilence gently moved the gun and sat down on the other side of him. She could see the second gun in its holster against his hip.

"I didn't see anyone, did you Famine?" The other girl shook her head. War put out his cigarette.

"Ok I'm gonna stay here anyway, need some air." Pestilence looked at Famine, the other girl pleaded with the Latin girl to stay.

"We'll stay with you, keep you company in case something happens."

"K." Famine returned her head to his shoulder and Pestilence shifted so she was leaning against him. Subtly Marcus moved his arms, so encircling both girls so they were flush against him. Pestilence looked up but he still had the lost look, though his eyes didn't look quite as empty as before. Pestilence sighed as she snuggled closer; they were truly an odd group. Marcus had been the last to join the Horsemen; he had fought with them for years, since Conquest (then War) had formed the group. But he never joined. Then three years ago when he turned fifteen, Conquest was hurt and something in War was woken up. He had taken Conquest's red coat, bike, and went on a shooting spree, killing everyone he could. When he returned that night he had a bottle of bleach and red hair dye. He bleached his black hair and dyed it red, emerging from the bathroom as War. His red hair had contrasted with his tan skin and blue eyes but it seemed to fit his new personality. Since then his hair has always been red, something that has become almost a joke among the group. Pestilence sat back and looked at the fighter. He was built, not jacked, but there was muscle, the kind that comes from hard living not working out in a gym. His skin was tan naturally but it was a bit pale from the couple of days they've spent living in the night.

"You should get some rest."

"Nah." Famine shook her head and both girls managed to drag the boy up.

"Your hurt, you lost a lot of blood you need to rest." War didn't argue, just let himself be dragged into the house and put to bed.


End file.
